


Mirrors

by Fourier



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Backstory, Gen, Trans Vax
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-03
Updated: 2016-10-03
Packaged: 2018-08-19 08:15:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8197468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fourier/pseuds/Fourier
Summary: “Would you rather I called you brother?”
  She asks it as she lets you in through her window, nearing three in the morning, and something deep in your chest flares with embarrassment and hope and utter fear as you scoff and turn away. She mocks you—she loves to mock you, it’s how the both of you show your love—and there’s no reason for this one to slice in so deep.--A ficlet about trans Vax because it's a concept I need more of in this fandom.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Critical Role fic so I hope you like it! <3

“Would you rather I called you brother?”

She asks it as she lets you in through her window, nearing three in the morning, and something deep in your chest flares with embarrassment and hope and utter fear as you scoff and turn away. She mocks you—she loves to mock you, it’s how the both of you show your love—and there’s no reason for this one to slice in so deep. 

She catches you by the wrist and forces you to turn towards her.

You stare into her face—your face, mirrored back at you—and the utter sincerity in her eyes steals your breath away. You say nothing; you’re good at that. With a tilt of her head she says everything; she’s good at that. 

“Sleep on it, darling,” she says softly. “As many nights as you need.”

When you go to your room and strip off the thieves’ disguise you wear—breeches and a tattered shirt, hair pinned up to look like a boy’s, face disguised with hard lines and voice clear and deep—it feels like being flayed.

*****

She does not call you by your name anymore. The one Dad gave you; the one that sounds like a proper Elven lady who walks around a house of nobles with her head held high. It tastes like ash in your mouth.

When she speaks to you she calls you _darling_ ; when she speaks of you to others she calls you _my twin_. You notice after a day or two and it sends a jolt through your stomach each time she says it. Like something coming to life in your belly.

*****

(There are books on polymorph and there are books on resurrection and there are books on self-disguise but there are no books on this; you search the library one day, study harder than you ever did in school, and when you come up empty it hurts in a way you haven’t felt since you left your mother. Your sister finds you later in your bedroom tearing the seams from your favorite dress with your daggers; when she takes your head in her hands it burns white-hot.)

*****

It is three in the morning and she lets you in through her window again; you say nothing and she only smiles, and when you crawl into her bed still in your disguise she just nudges you over and lays beside you.

You stare at the ceiling, stomach churning, as she faces away from you and pretends to be asleep. 

“Vax’ildan,” you whisper into the darkness, and she is silent. 

For the count of one, two, three—for an eternity—your sister says nothing. You worry you will have to explain it to her; you worry she will not understand; you worry that she already understands and is more like your father than you thought.

“Vex and Vax,” she murmurs, turning to look at you with that smile of hers. “I love it.”

When you cry and the tears spill over like a wave finally crashing on a shore, she holds you to her chest and calls you _brother._

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [(podfic) Mirrors](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8558254) by [MaliciousVegetarian](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaliciousVegetarian/pseuds/MaliciousVegetarian)




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